XMen Evolution OneShots
by ilovemyniece
Summary: I have recently started writing xme oneshots and am now brave enough to post them they will vary in character couple and genre the first is Romy i hope the Romy fans like it 2nd is a jean fic kinda angsty though and will have a part 2 coming soon
1. Perfect Romy

Ok, I am not really a Romy person, more like Lancitty Amyro and Tonda, but I had the urge to write a Romy so I hope you Romy fans like it. Also I have other one-shots to upload as soon as I can either type it up on my desktop or get a new laptop, this one is a piece of crap. So hopefully you enjoy!

"Have any of you seen Rogue?" Remy LeBeau asked, entering the game room of the mansion. Let it be known that Gambit is not a hero. He is a theif. That one word described Remy. He was not a do-gooder, nor was he exceptionally evil. At least, _he_ didn't think so. No, he was not a good person, but these days he found himself spending more and more time at the X-Mansion hunting down the company of a girl he cared for deeply, and he even went on missions with them from time to time. The reason: to win the affections and attention of his beloved Queen of Hearts.

"I think she's in the Danger Room." Kitty Pryde said. When Remy just looked at her, she sighed and said, "I'll show you where it is." As they were walking, Remy wondered aloud, "I wonder what mon chere is doing in the Danger Room at this time of night?" He was surprised when Kitty answered "She's training."

"For what?"

"She's trying to perfect how to use two katana's."

"What are those?"

"Japanese fighting swords. I told her I would help her but she told me she could do it herself." Kitty paused thoughtfully, then added, "She feels useless."

"What do you mean, petite?" Remy inquired as he stopped walking.

"Y'know, like, she can't help on missions." Kitty said, coming to a stop in front of the tall Cajun.

"Where would she get an idea like that?" Remy asked the small girl.

"I don't know, but one day she just snapped." Kitty looked into his eyes, and Remy knew she wanted him to ask the question he was thinking.

"What do you mean snapped?" Remy asked, not quite sure he wanted an answer.

"When she wakes up she trains for an hour and a half, then eats breakfast, then we go to school. When we get home she goes to the danger room again. She hardly eats any dinner, and then she goes back to the danger room. She barely sleeps at night, she's always tossing and turning, and she won't listen to anyone. We tell her she's too thin for her body build and she just brushes us off. I don't know how to help her!" Kitty said desperately, close to tears.

"I will talk to her, petite, voice your concerns in a language that girl understands." Remy said.

"The Danger Room is two doors down this hall on the right." Kitty said, then added, "Thank you, Remy."

"Sure thing, petite. I hate to see a cute girl like you crying this much for someone else. Try crying for yourself sometime, non?" Remy said, giving Kitty a comforting pat on her shoulder.

When Remy entered the viewing room of the Danger Room, he saw the object of his attention. Marie D'Ancanto, commonly Referred to as Rogue. "You're gonna hurt yourself with those giant steak knives if you aren't careful." He said through the loud speaker.

"What do you want, Cajun?" Rogue said, not even looking up. 'Since she won't come to me, I'll have to go to her.' Remy thought.

"Chere," Remy said, making Rogue jump a little. "What ya doin'?" He asked, simply.

"Can't you see what I'm doing?" Rogue said going back to what she was doing, or she would have if Remy had not taken hold of her arms.

"That's not what I meant." Remy took a step closer to Rogue, closing the gap between them. "Why you makin' your friends worry for ya'? Petite Chat is worried to the point of tears, and I don't like that." Remy tried to look for anything in Rogues eyes, but she refused to make eye contact.

"Why are they so worried about me? Why do they even care?" Rogue asked quietly.

"Because they are your family. They love you, Chere, they don't like to see you like this. Now why don't you tell Remy what's goin' on in that head o' yours? I'm here for you, Chere, and I won't leave, so you can always come to me." Remy said.

"I have to train," Rogue said.

"Not this much-" Remy was cut off when Rogue looked at him saying, "Yes, I do."

"Why?" Remy asked.

"I have to be the best at hand to hand, and if that means I have to train harder, well then I'll have to deal with it." Rogue said, firmly. "I have to, because I can't do anything else. I have to be perfect, because if I can't be perfect, then there's no place for me next to the X-Men." She looked down again, but Remy could see the tears threatening to spill over.

"Chere?" Remy put his thumb and forefinger on Rogues chin, making her look at him. "You may not have a place next to the X-Men, but you will always have a place next to good ol' Remy LeBeau, and together we're invincible." At that, Rogues tears spilled over at the sincere words Remy had spoken. "and just between us, Chere, you have been perfect since the moment I first saw you."

"D-do you think th-they're m-mad at me?" Rogue asked.

"Non, Chere, they worry for you. Worrying is a good thing. It's what family's do. They worry about you, and know when you're messin' up, so listen to your family more often. Sometimes they have something worthwhile to say." Remy said, wrapping his arms around her small frame. "And besides, I can't take a skeleton to dinner if she's gonna blow away in the wind." Remy joked pulling back to see Rogues reaction.

"Don't make fun of me Swamp Rat!" Rogue said, taking a few steps back, looking offended.

"You don't have to worry 'bout a thing, Rogue, because as long as I'm with you, you'll always be perfect. You don't have to be the best Rogue, just b yourself and you'll do fine." Remy said, not moving, just watching Rogue think about his words.

"Yeah." Is all she said before she dropped the swords. They clanged loudly on the metal floor. "Let's get outta here." She said, inking her arm with Remy's, surprising him yet again by saying, "I would love to go to dinner with you, Remy, but keep your wanderin' hands to yourself, ya got that?" Rogue said, being as stern as she could with such a charming man on her arm.

"I would never think of doin' that to a lady such as yourself." Remy said, smirking devilishly.

"Good thing I ain't a lay then, huh?" Rogue said, as the Danger Room doors shut.


	2. Again

This is a jean fic kinda dark for what I usually write but I like it and I hope you will too. As always please review!

'It's 2:36.' Jean Grey thought. The numbers on the alarm clock should have been green, but they weren't. Her head should have been on her candy apple red pillow-case, but it wasn't. her mismatched comforter and sheet should have been around her, but they weren't. She should have been in her own room, on her own bed, but she wasn't.

Instead, she was in a motel, lying on top of the moldy old sheets and moth eaten blanket. She could have gone back to the mansion, but she would never get any sleep. At least here she could be alone. She had messed up. Again. She couldn't face any of her housemates yet. The good thing was that she could fix it. Everyone was probably worried about her by now. Maybe.

Goosebumps rose on her naked flesh as the wind blew through the window. She raised her hand to block the bright bathroom light from her eyes.

"So, girly, what do I owe ya?" the grimy man asked her as he got dressed. He repeated his question when she didn't answer.

"Just get out." She said not looking at him as he left the room.

Had she been able to, Jean would have cried at her predicament. It seemed, at the moment, like her heart was dead. She could have done anything, but she chose this. Jean chuckled at how she had gotten here. Okay, so her heart wasn't totally dead. Just ripped out and stomped on was all.

On unsteady legs, she made her way to the bathroom. She gagged slightly. She could still smell that man in here. This time, she gagged harder, and dropped to her knees next to the toilet and spilled her stomach contents. There wasn't much, liquid mostly. When she was done, she got in the shower and turned the cold on.

As the stream of freezing water hit her, the goosebumps returned. Slowly, she wet her hair, her face, her chest, her back, anywhere that had sweat on it. She smiled as she remembered the last two hours.

For those two hours, she was Jean, and he was Scott. She had Scott back for two hours, but she stopped smiling now. Now she realized the sun was up and the motel manager would be here soon. She wasn't Jean Grey. He wasn't Scott Summers. She remembered that she was Jean Grey-Summers, that man was Michael. Praise the Lord if she could remember his last name.

Walking down the street, she thought of her 'beloved husband'. She thought of how a single look had stolen him from her. 'Someone besides me takes an interest in him and he's gone', Jean thought. She couldn't even hate them anymore. She was beyond hate, beyond anger. She felt nothing for them.

She was nearing the mansion. She would go into the mansion and pretend everything was fine. She would go back to fighting for a marriage that was so broken, with pieces so small, she could not see the use in fighting anymore. The same thing happened over and over again, everyday. She would fight, give up, go out, and come back again. She always came back. The cycle never stopped, and she would never win. That awful, horrid woman would always have Scott, and she never could again.


	3. Before Jean

The second part to my Jean 2 shot. Not angsty like the first but it is kinda bittersweet. Enjoy and tell me what you think. And since it's been so long since I posted the first part you will probably want to read the first part before this to really know why I say bittersweet.

"It's 2:36." Jean Grey said softly.

Those lights should have been green, but they weren't. She should have had her head on her candy apple red pillow case but she didn't. Her mismatched cotton comforter and sheets should have been covering her, but they weren't. She should have been in her room, in her bed, but she wasn't.

"Did you say something?" Jean turned over, the silk sheets bringing goose bumps to her skin and sending a slight chill up her spine.

"No." she said, smiling at her brand new husband who looked like a cross between a drowned rat and a Greek god.

"So, what do you think of the room?" Scott asked as he slid in bed next to her.

"I think they need to fix the air, it's toasty in here." Jean said, fanning herself with her left hand, smiling slightly.

"Only because I just got out of the shower." Scott joked, kissing Jean on the lips briefly before pulling back slightly. "Be honest with me, do you want room service or pizza delivery?" he asked, reaching for his cell phone.

"Pizza costs less and tastes much better!" Jean said getting up to go to the shower.

Once in the shower, she turned on the cold water and wet her hair, her face, her chest, her back, anywhere that had sweat on it. Some might say that being married was a drag, but when you lived in the Xavior Institute, you got an excuse to break rules and have some fun. Even if Logan didn't like the idea of the two of them getting married so young.

After a few minutes she turned on the hot water, trying to warm her shivering body. When Jean stepped out of the shower, she caught the eye of her reflection. Suddenly, she gagged and dropped to her knees, spilling the contents of her stomach. There wasn't much, mostly liquid. When she was done, she heard a knock on the door, and Scott's worried voice saying, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just felt a little nauseous there for a minute." Jean said. After she had brushed her teeth and hair, she stepped out to find a large pizza on the small table. "On second thought, let's east that tomorrow." She said climbing back into bed.

Jean laid her head on Scott's chest as he wrapped her in his arms. 'This is how everyday is supposed to feel. Safe. 'she thought.

"Jean?" Scott asked, running his hand up and down Jeans spine, bringing back those troublesome goose bumps.

"Hm?" she responded, waiting.

"We're happy, right? Safe?" he said, bringing his hand to a stop on her shoulder.

"Yes." Jean stiffened at his tone. She didn't like where he might be heading with this.

"We'll always be happy, won't we?"

"Scott, where are you going with this?" jean looked Scott in the eyes, at least, she hoped she did; she couldn't tell if his eyes were on her.

"Just answer, please." He said, almost pleadingly, as if begging to be spared a painful gunshot to the knee.

"Yes, we'll always be happy, Scott. Always."


	4. A List For Amyro

26 Ways To Know If You're An Amyro Fan

Summary: kinda self explanatory. If you don't get what it's about: skip to down to #27.

Doodle Amyro dozens of times till you write it perfectly.

You then cut that out and put it on your wall, and start over.

You use Amyro as an adjective for a song, music video, film plot, etc.

You dislike Jonda very much and think whoever is going to put two crazies together must be insane themselves.

Despise whoever thought it would be a good idea to keep them apart in XME.

Despise those who diss Amyro.

You wish John would just come to his senses and get with Amara already.

Hate the thought of Amara being with another man and vice versa.

Believe that Bobby belongs with Jubes and should stay away from John's woman.

Believe that the writers of XME kept John and Amara apart just to torment you and give you nightmares.

You remember every Amyro you have ever come across.

You watch 'Cruise Control' and think "This would have been way better if John was there to help."

You have to constantly remind yourself that John was not an Acolyte yet and could not have known who Amara was.

You make Amyro vids in your head to go along with your favorite songs.

You continue a fic in your head from the last update, patiently awaiting the next installment.

Make a sequel in your head of your favorite completed Amyro so many times, you have to go to the authors profile to be sure it's not real.

You include Amyro in anything you write, even if you are not brave enough to post it yet.

You think people are lame for dissing Amyro on the basis of them both being fire and 'not on the same team' although they love Romy.

Believe the aforementioned are hypocrites.

You believe John is perfectly sane and should not have anything to do with Wanda.

You think Tonda is looking better and better every time you come across and Jonda fic.

Although you despise the very existence of Jonda fics, they do make for a good rival pair in a Amyro/Jonda triangle.

Believe Amara is way better suited to be with John than some hussy who don't know what she's got right in front of her. (I love you Toad! You're awesome! -ilmn )

Strongly believe Wanda only wants John for his body and hot Australian accent.

You have read this far, nodding and smiling, even L.O. on the inside at some parts, stopped on a few to remember a fond Amyro memory and rolled your eyes at the thought of Jonda every time you see it, and you're going to review and tell me what you think.

Thought I was talking about you for a second there.

If you still don't get it read the chappy summery.


End file.
